


Birthday Firsts

by Lhugy_for_short



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Birthday Sex, Blow Jobs, First Kiss, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Hand Jobs, M/M, Prompto is loved and cherished the way he deserves
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-28
Updated: 2018-10-28
Packaged: 2019-08-08 21:51:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16437485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lhugy_for_short/pseuds/Lhugy_for_short
Summary: Prompto's turning eighteen, and it should feel like a big deal. Except it isn't, not to him - not when every other birthday has been just as lame and lonely as the last. But when Noct decides to throw him a party, things may just turn out different this year, after all.





	Birthday Firsts

**Author's Note:**

> I missed Prompto's birthday by a couple days, but to be fair, I honestly intended for this to be 1k words, tops. Not sure how it evolved into the project that it did, but. Well. There's still smut, and that was my only goal. 
> 
> Actually, I took a poll for this over on Tumblr, and "awkward first-time Brotherhood Promptio" won the vote! No underage here, just lots of fluffy (awkward) first times ;D

 

“So.” Across the booth, Noct pops another fry into his mouth, cleans the salt off his fingers with purposeful kitten licks. “You still haven’t told me what you want for your birthday.”

Prompto, of course, is caught completely off-guard. The two have been spending the evening sitting around the Crow’s Nest, playing King’s Knight instead of working on a project for their history class, when suddenly, out of nowhere,  _ this.  _ He honestly hadn’t even expected Noct to remember his birthday, much less bring it up a whole week early. So what is he supposed to say? His friend is looking at him, waiting for an answer, but all Prompto can think about is how sweaty his palms suddenly feel. 

“Oh, um. My birthday? Right, I kinda...forgot about it.”

“You  _ forgot?  _ About your own birthday?” A single dark eyebrow shoots up in incredulity. “Dude, even I remembered.” 

Under the table, his nails are biting into his palms. “Yeah, well. It’s not like it’s a big deal. I never do anything special for it.”  _ Can we  _ please _ change the subject? _

But Noct, being Noct, presses. “C’mon, you’re gonna be eighteen this year, that’s totally a big deal. You’ve gotta have something planned, right?”

Prompto shakes his head.

“Woah, woah. You mean, like, not even a party? What about your family?” 

The regret is instantaneous. As soon as the question leaves his lips, the prince is wincing, opening his mouth again as if trying to take back the words, but it’s too late. Prompto’s gaze drops to his lap. “...Nah. My parents are going out of town again. They always do around this time of year. But they usually leave me a gift card or something, so that’s cool, I guess.” 

He hasn’t  _ actually  _ forgotten his birthday, of course, it’s just that he’s been trying really hard to. Every year it’s the same story: he always gets his hopes up, only to spend a miserable night all alone in front of the TV. Other kids in his neighborhood grew up having parties and getting tons of presents, but for him birthdays have only ever meant one thing. 

_ Disappointment. _

“Dude.” Noct is still staring at him from across the table. Gently, he nudges the plate of fries aside and leans forward, his expression serious enough to hold Prompto’s attention despite the nerves gnawing at his gut. “That is so  _ not  _ cool. Like, at all. What kind of best friend would I be if I let you spend your special day alone and bored?” 

“Noct?’

“Nope, screw that. We’re throwing you a birthday party.” He ignores the half-formed protests in favor of whipping out his phone and typing something lightning fast into a chat window. “If your parents are out of town, we can use your place, right? I’ll have Iggy make the cake - definitely something chocolate - and we can all pitch in to bring the--”

“Woah, buddy, slow down.” A smile, tight but he’s trying. “That’s nice and all, but you really don’t have to--”

“Don’t worry, Prom. I promise this’ll be the  _ best birthday ever. _ ” 

* * *

 

It’s turning out to be the worst birthday ever. 

No matter how many times Prompto goes over the final checklist, something always seems to be out of place. A cushion on the wrong side of the sofa, not enough extra plates set out in the kitchen, too many forks in the fork-to-knife ratio. And he knows, logically, that none of it matters. That his friends don’t care about whether or not his house is absolutely perfect. But, well, it’s a big deal to him. 

Besides Noct swinging by to take him to the arcade a few times, he’s never actually had anyone over before - especially not like this. Is it so wrong to want to make sure everything is just right for his big day? 

Maybe not. But it is time consuming, and by the time he realizes he still hasn’t gotten dressed, his guests are set to arrive any minute. 

He’s in the downstairs bathroom frantically gelling down a rogue lock of hair when he hears the doorbell ring. Nearly fumbles his comb into the toilet in his panic to answer it, and skids down the hallway just as the first rap of knuckles sounds against the door. “Coming!” he calls, reaching for the knob. “Sorry, I was just finishing up th-- ... _ Oh _ .” 

Well, it isn’t Iggy, who he expects will show up carrying more food than any of them could possibly finish by the end of the night. Nor, surprisingly, is it Noctis. In fact, standing at the door is the one person he hasn’t been expecting at all, and for a moment Prompto has no clue what to even say. 

Gladio smiles amicably down at him. In the porch light, his eyes appear to be shining, a soft honeyed color that compliments the deep brown of his leather jacket. Instead of his usual baseball cap, his hair is styled back away from his face in a thick, dark wave, accentuating just how unfairly handsome literally everything about him is. Prompto’s mind starts spinning. No way  _ the  _ Gladiolus Amicitia has actually shown up for  _ his _ party. There has to be some kind of mistake. Noct would never go out of his way to torture him like this, especially knowing how he feels about -- 

“Happy birthday, Prompto,” Gladio says into the silence. “A little Princess told me you needed help eating some cake.” 

_ Ohhh,  _ Noct is  _ so dead.  _

“Y-yeah. I mean, there isn’t any cake. Not yet. But I do need help. U-um, with eating it. When it gets here.” Prompto stops. Sucks in a deep breath and tries again. “Hi, Gladio. Uh, welcome to the party, I guess.” 

“Can I come in?”

Numbly, he steps back from the door, giving those broad, powerful shoulders what he hopes is a wide enough berth. Watches as Gladio kicks his boots off just inside the entrance, and starts to shrug out of his jacket next. “Where’re Noct and Iggy?” he asks in a voice so casual Prompto swears he must be dreaming. 

“Oh, um. Not here yet.” Peeling his eyes away from the sight of chiseled muscles beneath the fabric of Gladio’s sweater, Prompto suddenly wishes he’d left the thermostat turned off. “They’re bringing the cake. That’s why it’s, y’know…. C-can I get you a drink?” 

If Gladio notices the red tint to his cheeks, or how his hands keep twitching inside his pockets, he says nothing. Maybe he doesn’t catch either; after all, they’ve only met a few times, and Prompto’s never had the nerves to say more than a few words to the guy. And who can blame him? Gladio’s, like,  _ perfect _ , and also happens to be a badass member of the Crownsguard. Guys like  _ that _ never even register guys like  _ him  _ on their radar. 

“Prom?”

“Hm?” Blue eyes blink rapidly. In the hallway, Gladio’s staring at him over his shoulder, a look of amusement stretching across his lips, and suddenly Prompto realizes that he’s been spacing. “Oh! S-sorry! Did you, um, say something?”

“Just that I’d love a drink, thanks. You feeling okay?”

“Me? Yeah, totally.” He flashes a very unconvincing smiles as he scoots past Gladio’s frame toward the kitchen. “Drinks are this way, come on in.” 

As it turns out, not everyone in Insomnia is a fan of flavored, sugary, carbonated sodas. Which is of course all Prompto’s bothered to prepared, thinking it would just be him and Noct and Iggy (who always brings his own cans of Ebony anyway) for the night. But after watching Gladio choke down two sips of the stuff from his red cup and cringe both times, he knows he has to do  _ something _ to set it right. “Um. Sorry I don’t have much else,” he offers, tugging at that same lock of hair that refuses to stay put. “There’s a convenience store right up the street, I can run and get you something better.” 

“Nah, it’s fine.”

“Really, I don’t mind! I’ve got my bike, it’ll only take a few minutes and--”

“Prom.” Gladio’s eyes soften again. From across the kitchen counter, he reaches over to place a hand on Prompto’s forearm (probably meant to be soothing, but the contact actually sends his heart rate skyrocketing.) “Relax. It’s fine. I’m just not used to drinking this stuff on its own, that’s all. I’ve only ever had it as a mixer.”

Oh.  _ Ohh.  _ He shouldn’t be surprised. Gladio’s older, and super cool, and probably goes to parties all the time, right? And if there’s one thing the movies have taught him about cool parties, it’s that there’s always plenty of booze. 

_ In that case….  _ Prompto manages a small smile. “Think you can give me a hand with something?” 

The pantry’s mostly full of junk food - snacks and chips and cookies, stuff he never eats anymore but his parents keep buying anyway. Prompto pushes past all of that in search of the real prize: the whisky on the top shelf, which he finds tucked away and probably untouched in ages. It’s still good, though, and he pulls it down to the sound of a low, appreciative whistle. 

“Damn, you weren’t kidding. You sure your folks won’t mind?” Carefully, Gladio takes the bottle and tucks it under his arm before turning back to help Prompto down from the chair. 

“Nah, they won’t notice. They’d probably be happier knowing it’s going to good use.” 

“I’ll be sure to savor it then.” The cap comes off, and the smell alone threatens to knock Prompto on his ass even from a distance. Gladio tops off his drink, takes a long sip, and holds out the bottle in offering. “ _ Mm. _ Top notch. You want some, too?”

Him? The kid who’s never had anything stronger in his life than a shot of cold medicine? Prompto waves his hands in front of his face. Starts to say something lame about how he’s only eighteen, but thinks better of it and opts for a more casual excuse instead. “N-no thanks. I’m on a diet. Gotta count those calories, y’know?” 

There’s a moment of hesitation before Gladio nods. “Suit yourself,” he says, and starts to set the bottle back on the counter - but not before running his gaze quickly over Prompto’s slender hips, thin arms, delicate wrists. He looks like he wants to say something, but is (thankfully) interrupted by the sudden trill of the Justice Monster theme song coming from Prompto’s back pocket. 

“Oh! Sorry, it’s Noct,” he smiles in apology, and glances at his phone screen again to make sure he’s seeing it right.  _ Incoming call.  _ Noct  _ never  _ calls him, not unless it’s something too important to just text. Prompto swallows back the concern in his throat as he lifts the phone to his ear. “Hey, buddy. You guys almost here?”

“ _ Not even close, dude. Traffic sucks, there’s some kind of event going on downtown…. Iggy says it’s some big sports thing. We musta hit the end of the game.” _

“Oh. So, like, how much longer do you think…?”

“ _ Not sure, maybe another hour? We’re, like, way on the other side of town. I mean, it’s kinda my fault, but also mostly Iggy’s too, and -- ow, chill! Look, sorry Prom, but we’re gonna be pretty late. Is Gladio there yet?”  _

Prompto feels his stomach beginning to tighten. He looks up to see Gladio watching him from the counter, where his hip is propped against the tile and his cup is hovering in front of his full lips. “Yep. He’s here. We’re having a blast.”  _ Save me. _

_ “Cool, just talk to him or something. We’ll be there as soon as we can.”  _

_ No, wait! Noct, don’t--! _

_ Click. _

The silence seems even louder in the wake of the call. Gladio’s gaze is still burning into him, and it’s all Prompto can do to keep his panic barely-concealed under the surface. How’s he supposed to manage this by himself for a whole hour? 

“So?” Amber eyes are questing, curious. “What’d he say?” 

“Um. Traffic’s pretty bad downtown, so they might...be a while. Like, a long while.” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Gladio takes another long, slow sip from his cup. “Guess that means you’re stuck with me ‘til then, huh?” 

“Hm? Oh.  _ Haha... _ ”

“Probably not the awesome birthday you had in mind.”

“Yeah, it’s…. I mean, no!” Prompto cringes, and takes a step closer in his attempt to recover. “What I  _ really _ mean is, it’s fine. I’m glad you’re here.” (Is it just him, or did Gladio just smile again?) “Usually I’m by myself on my birthday, so this is the first time I’ve ever had, like, a friend to spend it with me.” 

“You’re kidding?”

He shakes his head. 

“That sucks.  _ Uh,  _ no offense.” Still gripping his drink in one hand, Gladio leans forward onto his other elbow, putting himself much closer now. “Just seems to me like everyone should get what they deserve on their birthday. ...You sure you don't wanna try a sip of this? It'll help you relax, you seem pretty tense.” 

The cup is held out in offering once more, and this time Prompto finds himself actually considering it. Despite the smell, it doesn't look all that different from the soda he usually drinks, so how bad could it be? Cautiously, he reaches out to accept it. 

“I've never had whisky before,” he admits, drawing the drink up to his lips. It smells  _ potent,  _ much more so up close, and kind of sour, too. “Is it...strong?”

“A little.” 

Prompto’s face evidently gives him away, because suddenly he feels a warmth spreading through his shoulder where Gladio’s hand has come to rest. “Ease into it at first, don’t rush. Give your mouth time to get used to it. It’s like, uh. Like kissing. You remember your first kiss, right?” 

If Gladio thought he looked deflated before, then the way Prompto slumps forward at the question is an all-time low.  _ Gods,  _ he must seem like the lamest teenager in all of Insomnia; he’s never kissed anyone, he’s never tried alcohol, he’s never even had a stupid birthday party before and now Gladio probably thinks he’s wasted his time coming here. Noct was wrong - this isn’t just the worst birthday ever, it’s the worst  _ day  _ of his entire life.

“Prom, hey, it’s okay. Was it something I said?” 

He shakes his head quickly. Forces a smile that’s stretched too tight, but already it’s all he can do just to fight back tears. “No, I’m sorry. It’s nothing.”

“You don’t have to keep apologizing, y’know.” Once again Gladio’s leaning in close to him, smiling like this somehow  _ isn’t  _ a total train wreck, and Prompto can’t understand why he’s being so nice. “Forget the drink. It’s your birthday, you don’t have to do anything you don’t want.” 

No, that isn’t quite it, either. But he doesn’t have the words to complain as Gladio takes him by the wrist and leads him out of the kitchen, back down the hall to where he’d noticed the living room earlier. Prompto nods, and together they take a seat on the sofa that somehow manages to still have too many cushions on it. 

Gladio sets his cup on the coffee table. Unfolds the jacket he’s been carrying in the crook of his arm, and digs around for something in one of the inner pockets. And that’s when Prompto’s curiosity at last gets the better of him. “Um. What are we doing in here?”

“Cheering you up,” come the answer. A moment later, Gladio apparently finds whatever it is he’s been looking for. Tells Prompto to close his eyes as he draws something out of the pocket. Something small and...black? 

“Gladio, I don’t understand.”

“I was gonna wait ‘til the guys got here, but this seems like a good time. It’s a present. Y’know, for your birthday. Anyway, here. Give me your hands.” 

He’s blushing, he’s totally blushing, he can feel it. His cheeks are warm as he holds out first one hand, then the other, palms up. They flare even brighter when Gladio’s fingers brush over his skin, only a fleeting touch but there’s something thrilling about it all the same. Then the contact is gone just as quickly, and in its place a strange weight is left behind. 

“You can open your eyes now,” Gladio says, and his voice is smiling in the space between them. 

It’s...a box. A  _ jewelry _ box, and for one terrifying, intoxicating heartbeat Prompto wonders if Gladio’s gotten him a ring?! But that would be stupid. They barely know each other, and what kind of person proposes without even a first date? So Prompto brushes it off with a laugh, and pries open the box before his imagination can run any wilder.

There’s no ring inside, but there  _ is  _ a short strip of black leather connected by silver chains at both ends. And it’s  _ beautiful _ . Prompto’s eyes widen as he lifts it up, runs his fingers along the smooth surface and feels the engraving there. He peers closer. The symbols appear to be a relief of some kind of winged creature, too small to make out the details and yet so familiar, too…. 

“It’s the Crownsguard emblem. The Guardian, who watches over the kingdom and the royal line.” There’s a touch of pride in Gladio’s voice when he speaks. The Crownsguard, Prompto knows, is not just a job for the young shield - it’s his duty. One he’s always accepted with grace and dignity...or at least, that’s how Ignis once put it. Prompto can’t help but stare, speechless, up into those fierce amber eyes. “I noticed you’re always wearing that thing on your wrist, so I thought you might like a bracelet for your birthday.” 

“Gladio, I…. This is too nice. I-I’m not even in the Crownsguard, I shouldn’t wear--” 

“Noct says you could be, if you wanted. I think he’s right.” He’s smiling again, and yeah, it’s  _ definitely  _ not just Prompto’s imagination that he’s leaning closer now. “Noct talks about you a lot. And…I kinda ask him about you a lot, too.” 

There go his cheeks again. “You do?” 

A nod. “You’re cute, Prom. More than just cute, actually. Can I put it on you?” 

He’s dreaming. Any second now, he’s going to wake up in his desk at school with an inappropriate boner and his heart pounding in his chest because  _ Gladio’s actually touching him now.  _ His fingers are soft and hard at the same time, calloused in places but surprisingly gently as they lift his hand in the air. He doesn’t touch Prompto’s wristband, instead leaves it in place while he wraps the new bracelet closer to the juncture below it. Hooking the chain takes a few tries, but Prompto doesn’t mind. The touch of those hands on his is like a warmth he never realized he’d been missing until now. And when Gladio finally does pull back, the looks of satisfaction on his face is enough to make him forget his nerves completely. 

“There. It looks good on you.”

“T...thank you. Really, Gladio. This is the nicest present anyone has ever given me.” 

“You like it?” 

“Yeah. It’s….” Prompto has to bite his lip before he says anything too stupid, like  _ it’s something to always remember you by.  _ Instead he looks up, and hopes his eyes can get the point across better than words. 

What he doesn’t expect is for Gladio to be looking not at their hands in his lap, but  _ directly at him _ .  Honeyed amber swimming in the light, the corners of his mouth curved upwards in amusement, or maybe something else. It makes Prompto wish he'd actually had some of that whisky, if only to stop his heart from beating right out of his chest. 

“Prompto?”

“H-hm?”

“Earlier, in the kitchen. You've never actually been kissed, have you?”

“Um.”  _ It’s gotta be so obvious _ . “No….”

“Thought so. Mind if I help you change that?” 

Surprise leaves him in the form of a sharp breath. Is Gladio saying he wants to…? 

“Can I kiss you, Prom?” 

Maybe he nods his head. Maybe he whispers a soft  _ yes _ into the space between them. Or maybe he just sits there, dumbfounded and holding his breath, as Gladio closes the distance. He's so gentle, so careful when he presses their lips together, like he’s worried Prompto might somehow break. 

But he doesn’t break. He swoons a little, forward into the hands that are waiting there to catch him, and his eyes flutter closed. Gladio smells and tastes like the whiskey, but even more intoxicating is how quickly the kiss turns heated. More pressure, their mouths moving against each other until eventually he feels Gladio’s tongue sliding over his lips. Not pushing, not demanding; it’s merely there, a solid and constant weight, and that makes Prompto want it more than anything he’s ever dared to want before. 

“Hey.” The kiss breaks suddenly, and Gladio draws back far enough to look Prompto in the eyes. “You okay? Take a breath. Remember what I said about easing into it.” 

He isn't sure why his head is spinning so much, but he does as Gladio says. Feels his chest loosen a little more with each gulp of air, and the intensity begins to fade - though he's glad for the hands still holding him steady. “I…I'm sorry, that was just…”

“Yeah.” 

Gladio doesn't say anything else, but his lips (slick now from the kiss) are wide and stretching wider. While Prompto focuses on catching his breath, those large hands reach up to caress his hair, his cheek, the back of his neck. So intimate, so warm, and he can't resist melting into the touch. “I, um, really liked that. Kissing you, I mean,” he admits once he’s able to form the words. 

“So did I.”

“Can we…do it again?” 

“Definitely. Just remember to breathe this time,” Gladio laughs, and his voice rumbles through Prompto’s chest too as they both dive back in. 

This time, the kiss is different. There's less caution and more purpose, and when Gladio’s tongue swipes his lips, Prompto opens to let him in. After that, there's no turning back. Gladio’s taste fills his mouth, and the rest surrounds him: all heat and sounds and fingers moving over his back. Somewhere along the way, Prompto’s own arms end up woven around broad, solid shoulders, and together they tumble over onto the couch. 

As many times as he'd fantasized about his first kiss, he'd never dreamed it would be like  _ this _ . He couldn't have imagined that he'd be pinned under the weight of muscle and brawn, trapped between the cushions and a  _ very _ well-placed thigh. Wouldn't have guessed that having someone else’s tongue swirling against his would be so perfect, so mind-blowing, or that he'd never want to stop. Even when the room temperature peaks and his jeans become painfully tight under that hard thigh, he continues to sigh into Gladio’s mouth like he’s the only thing left that matters in the world. 

Eventually, reluctantly, they do have to break for air. Prompto’s amazed to see the changes in Gladio’s face - his eyes are darker, his cheeks are flushed, he looks  _ intense  _ and  _ oh, gods,  _ is that…? Another brush with his hip against the front of Gladio’s pants confirms it; he’s at least as hard as Prompto and  _ yeah _ , his dick is  _ huge _ . 

“G-Gladio?”

“I…. Prompto, sorry, we don’t have to--”

“N-no, this is. Um. Please…. Don’t stop.”

“Are you sure?”

“I think…. Yeah.” 

“Yeah?” He nods, and so Gladio slides one hand experimentally to the space between his legs. Rubs his palm down against the (equally) evident bulge there, and watches as a mix of surprise and pleasure floods Prompto’s cheeks. “‘Cause this is turning out to be one hell of a birthday present.” 

_ No kidding _ . But it’s already been a long night of firsts for him - the party, the present, the kiss, and now (if he’s right about what Gladio’s offering) a lot more, too. Yeah, things might be moving fast, but the only thing he knows for certain is that he doesn’t want to stop now. Gladio said it himself:  _ Everyone deserves to get what they want on their birthday.  _ So he smiles and pushes his hips up into the contact there, as he carefully answers, “I’ll let you know if it’s too much.” 

For Gladio, that’s all he needs to hear. Within seconds their mouths are moving together again, and Prompto thinks he might be starting to get the hang of it now. Then Gladio’s hand slides up under his shirt and all thinking is rendered impossible anyway. No one has ever touched him like this, so intent on hitting the right spots that make him squirm and shudder and gasp. He’s never had his nipples rubbed between calloused fingers like this, or felt the delicious fire of broad nails teasing over his chest. He’s never been  _ so incredibly hard _ and yet helpless against the pleasure that keeps rippling through him again and again. 

And yet just when he thinks he’s about to make a terrible mess on the inside of his underwear, Gladio shows him mercy in the form of a momentary reprieve. 

But only _ momentary, _ because while he does break away from the kiss, it’s only so that he can tug his own shirt up and over his head. The sight of his chiseled torso - muscular, rugged, the half-finished outline of his tattoo cutting dark patterns across bronzed skin - it  _ does things  _ to Prompto. It makes him bite down on his lip and whine (actually  _ whine! _ ) while his lower body seems to take on a mind of its own. He grinds against the solid force of Gladio’s thigh, desperate now for some kind,  _ any _ kind of relief. At his sides, his fingers tighten around fistfuls of couch cushion, and he knows that, if given the opportunity, he would prefer to be squeezing them around Gladio’s pecs. 

“I’m gonna take care of that, don’t worry,” the shield soothes in that deep voice of his, palm once more rubbing down against Prompto’s erection. “But first, think we can go somewhere more private?” 

Prompto doesn’t care where it happens as long as he gets to put his hands on those sculpted abs, so he lets Gladio pull him up and off of the sofa and toward the stairs. Halfway down the hallway, their lips crash together again; suddenly Prompto’s pressed up against the wall and his shirt’s coming off, though he isn’t the least bit interested in where it lands. More important is the heat that replaces it - Gladio’s mouth, his tongue, his teeth - drawing out moan after moan even after they start moving again. 

By the time they’ve reached the bedroom, Prompto’s pants are mostly unfastened and hanging low on his hips. He regrets, actually, wearing the tight ones that night - they’re harder to wriggle out of as Gladio topples him onto his back on the mattress and tries to finish the job. 

“Wait, hang on, I just gotta--” His foot slips and nearly catches Gladio in the nose, but thankfully the shield’s reflexes are faster. He ends up flipping Prompto onto his front and practically peeling the jeans off of him, but the result is well worth the effort - for both of them. 

“Wow.” 

Freckled cheeks flush a shade darker. “W-what?” 

“ _ You. _ ” Gladio’s voice is mostly air, but it's still deep and still send shudders up the length of Prompto’s spine. When those powerful hands grab his hips to roll him over again, he goes easily, eyes hungry and mouth ready to accept more of the kisses he’s already begun to crave. 

Prompto’s body, it seems, knows exactly where it wants to be. His legs open instinctively when Gladio settles down onto him, lock into place on either side of strong hips as if trying to pull him closer. There’s almost nothing between them now save for a few thin layers of clothing, and as Prompto feels Gladio’s dick rub down next to his, he can’t stop the sounds that come tumbling out of his throat. 

Apparently, Gladio likes them. “ _ Damn _ , Prom,” he growls against his mouth. “I always knew you’d be hot like this.” Another moan as the hem of his boxers is rolled down and thick fingers brush over sensitive flesh. Gladio takes his reaction as encouragement; trails kisses down from the corner of his mouth to his neck instead, and takes his cock fully into his fist. “That feel good?” 

Prompto can only nod, emphatically as he clings to Gladio’s chest. “ _ Mmm…!”  _

“You sound so hot,  _ fuck. _ ” 

The rough hairs along Gladio’s jaw scratch his throat, but the distraction is welcome. Already Prompto is so close to the edge; all Gladio’s doing is stroking him, but if he keeps it up, there’s no way he can…!

“G...Gladio, wait, I’m--”

“You gonna cum?” 

More nodding, more desperate whines. In answer, Gladio pulls his hand away - briefly, only to spit into the palm - before returning in full force. He pumps Prompto hard, fast, squeezing tight around the head as more and more slick collects there. Twists his wrists as he goes back down the length, and it feels  _ so much better  _ than when Prompto does that to himself. Incredible, so hot and perfect and suddenly his breath is catching and he can’t hold back anymore and--!

“Nh!  _ A-aahh…!” _ Gladio holds him tight in the grip of orgasm, his body tensing and shuddering all over with the force of it. The room spins, and he squeezes his eyes shut against the intense please - pleasure that  _ Gladio’s _ given him, and that somehow makes it even more breathtaking. And even when his climax is over and he collapses, gasping, back onto the sheets, his skin is left tingling in the warm afterglow. 

Slowly, amber eyes lift to watch him. Gladio strokes his dick a few more times, unhurried now as he milks the last of his orgasm out of him, and smiles like he very much enjoyed that, too. “You good, Prom?” 

“Y...yeah. Just…gimme a sec….” 

Chuckling, Gladio at last releases him in favor of grabbing a handful of tissues off the nightstand. Wipes the mess from his fingers and Prompto’s lower stomach with so much care that it makes his chest ache with...something he can’t quite name. 

“Um. Hey,” Prompto says softly, as if his voice might somehow break the magic of the moment. “That was awesome. Thank you.” 

“Heh. Anything for the birthday boy.” 

“What about you?” Blue eyes drop down to Gladio’s lap, where his own erection still strains against the open fly of his dark jeans. He follows Prompto’s gaze, smiles, and pats his hip. 

“Don’t worry, this was about you. You don’t have to do anything.” 

“No, I-I want to. Um. Help you.” His cheeks can’t get any redder, but they try anyway. “However you want. Just, um…. Can you teach me?” 

For a long, awkward moment, Gladio simply stares at him, lips opening and closing as if he can’t figure out how to respond. His honey-brown eyes sweep up and down the length of him, from his mouth to his hips and back up again, before he swallows back his concern. “If you’re sure.” 

Prompto smiles. “I am. I mean it.” 

He lets Gladio guide him into a more comfortable position on his stomach, with his feet swinging in the air behind him and his arms folded atop solid thighs. He smiles sweetly up at Gladio, waits for him to slide his boxers down enough to free himself, and then blue eyes go wide. If Gladio had felt big through their clothing, it’s nothing compared to sight of him fully hard and throbbing between his fingers. Tentatively, holding his breath, Prompto reaches out to touch it. “ _ Shit,  _ dude….” 

“ _ Mm, _ you think you can handle it?” 

Actually, Prompto isn’t so sure anymore. The last thing he wants to do is mess this up, but he’s also nothing if not determined to try. So he nods and curls his fingers around the base. Thinks back to all the blowjobs he’s seen in porn, and wets his lips in anticipation.  _ Here goes nothing.  _

The first thing he notices is the heat. Gladio’s flesh is a sharp contrast to the air of the bedroom, cooling now that the last remnants of his own orgasm are fading. Against his tongue, Prompto can feel every powerful heartbeat, every twitch and groan that vibrates through Gladio’s frame as he licks up and down the length of him. He’s concentrating, focusing hard on the new sensations, the new tastes and smells and the way Gladio’s fingers feel massaging through his hair. And he thinks he must be doing okay so far, because he can hear his name tumbling out from between now-familiar lips. 

That encourages him more than anything. He works back up to the tip of Gladio’s dick and presses a kiss to it. Smiles at the heady taste of precum there (he actually kinda likes it) and wraps his lips around the girth. Slides down until the weight in his mouth is overwhelming, then moves back to resume teasing the tip. 

“ _ Gods…. Prompto, fuck, you’re…. Where did you…?”  _ In his hair, Gladio’s fingers tighten despite his obvious restraint. The mattress creaks; his hips lift a half-inch off the bed, seeking more. “Prompto, you’re doing amazing, baby.” 

There it is again, that weird tightness in his chest, and Prompto casts his gaze up. Gladio’s watching him, his own eyes heavy above cheeks flushed dark. He looks...beautiful. There’s no other word for it, and Prompto feels compelled to drink in the sight as long as it lasts. He isn’t even thinking anymore; his mouth is working on instinct, swallowing that length down deeper and deeper with each pass, tightening when he hears Gladio groan in pleasure. And all the while, he finds himself meeting those amber pools, so amazingly tender and filled with something Prompto doesn’t want to lose. 

In the end, it’s his tongue that does it for Gladio. Rocking his hips up carefully, sucking in breaths between his clenched teeth, he manages to give his warning just in time. Prompto steels himself - he’s determined to swallow back whatever Gladio gives him - and takes him as far as he can into his mouth. It’s enough. Gladio comes with a shuddering groan, his heat and taste filling Prompto’s throat and still managing to catch him off guard. It takes effort, but he tightens his lips and closes his eyes, and gulps back as much as he can. And if some leaks out,  _ well _ . Gladio certainly doesn’t complain. 

 

* * *

Noct stuffs one last piece of cake into his mouth and flashes Prompto a chocolate-frosted grin. “You gotta have more birthdays, dude. Iggy never makes dessert this good for me.”

“I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that,” comes Ignis’ retort from the hallway. He’s adjusting his scarf around the collar of his coat, eyes sharp but playful behind his glasses. “Prompto, are you sure you have enough to eat here? There’s plenty more if you need it, I’m sure his Highness won’t mind sharing.” 

A laugh, and Prompto shoves his best friend before he can stick his frosted tongue out too far. “I’m fine, Ignis. Thank you. This is plenty for me. I was just happy you could both make it tonight.” He smiles, first at Noct, then at Iggy, then at Gladio leaning against the kitchen counters, another glass in his hand. “All of you.” 

“No problem, buddy. Next year, we’ll be sure to get here on time so you don’t get stuck with the meathead all alone.” 

“Who you callin’  _ meathead _ , Princess?” 

“Where’s the lie?” 

Prompto’s stifling his laughter when Ignis summons the prince again to leave. It’s late - well after midnight, and technically not even his birthday anymore - but they both give him a final hug anyway. Noct, especially, lingers in the embrace. “Hope today sorta made up for all those shitty birthdays in the past,” he smiles. “You deserved something extra special.” 

Warmth spreads through him not for the first time that night. How in Eos has he gotten lucky enough to have three of the best friends in the whole world? “It did. Really.”

“Glad to hear that.”

“In fact...it’s been the best day of my life. So...thanks. For everything.”

“Noct, are you coming?” 

“Yep! Gotta go, Prom. See you tomorrow?” 

“You know it.”

With a last wave, the prince hops down the steps of the porch after Ignis, who is standing with the passenger door of their sleek, black sports car hanging open. Prompto watches them pull away from the curb and drive off into the night, then turns back and starts to lock the door behind him. 

And nearly collides with Gladio. 

“Oh.” 

“Uh, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine. I was just….” His deep voice trails off. He’s in the middle of putting on his jacket, his arms already in the sleeves. Disappointment must be obvious on Prompto’s face, because the shield’s smile falters. “I mean, it’s late, I thought you’d probably want to get rid of me.” 

“No, I--” He laughs, a single soft puff of air, and rubs at the smooth leather hanging around his wrist. “You can stay, if you want. I’d kinda...like you to stay.” 

Gladio’s smile returns, wider now. “Anything for the birthday boy.” 

“It’s not my birthday anymore, y’know,” he blushes. 

Warmth surrounds him as Gladio takes a step forward and scoops his face up in his large hands. “I know. But...I’ve got a few more presents I was hoping to give you anyway.” 

When Gladio kisses him this time, Prompto welcomes the tightness in his chest. 


End file.
